Page 94 of Brutal Game

I stared up at him, shocked, angry, and, damnit, hurt. “Do you really still believe that? After all this time, after everything I’ve shared with you, everything I’veshownyou, you truly think I’m still this heinous bitch trying to take down your coach for nefarious reasons?”

He hesitated. “Aviva, I?—”

“What are you kids doing here?” a gruff voice asked.

I peeked over Jack’s broad shoulder to see an older man in a security uniform glaring at us.

Shit.

Jack turned around and cleared his throat. He was about to give me away, wasn’t he? Visions of jail cells, the dean telling me I was kicked out of school and would never beable to go to grad school and become a psychologist attacked me. Never help other people heal from their grief. So did the vision of a depressed, lonely Asher, who could never play hockey again and would be reduced to shame and regret for the rest of his life.

“Jack, please?—”

“Sorry, sir. Thought it might be fun to sneak into the nicest building on campus and, uh, have a little fun. You know how it is. Horny hockey champion and all that,” Jack said in an aw shucks voice.

The guard shifted, his stern face relaxing into a smile. “Of course, Jack. Big fan. Huge fan. I’ll let it slide, but you’ll have to take your puck bunny somewhere else.”

Jack’s hands fisted. His voice was quiet, but the softness held a threat that scared me, even though it was directed elsewhere. “What did you call her?”

The guard laughed. “Puck bunny. Although maybe pussy is bet?—”

My tormentor was across the room before the guard could finish his sentence. He reached out and gripped the man’s collar, dragging him forward and up. I couldn’t see Jack’s eyes, but from the way the guard squeaked, it must have hurt.

“You don’t call her that unless you want my fist through your face. Better yet, I’ll let Coach Jensen know you’ve been drinking on the job.”

The man squirmed in Jack’s hold. “But I haven’t—” he protested.

“Doesn’t matter. Who are they going to believe, me, or you? Now apologize to her.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said in a choked voice.

“For what?” Jack asked in that soft, frightening voice.

“I’m sorry, miss, for insulting you.”

Without a word, Jack released the man, who rocked back on his heels before scurrying away, leaving a small, yellow puddle on the ground.

Jack turned to me, the planes of his face even sharper in his anger.

He’d been defending me since the beginning, hadn’t he? Even when he’d humiliated me, he’d threatened everyone else who tried to hurt me.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

He moved toward me slowly, before wrapping his hands around my upper arms. “No one talks to you that way.”

“Including you?”

“Including me.” He paused, correcting himself. “Except for when I’m fucking you. Degradation and possession gets you off.”

I didn’t protest. He was right.

“Does this mean you believe me?” I hated how small my voice was.

His eyes probed mine.

“I believe that you believe it’s true,” he said. “You’re loyal to your brother, you wouldn’t question him. But I know Coach?—”

I shoved his hands away. He wasn’t only clueless, he was intentionally clueless. “No, you’reloyalto your coach, same as I’m loyal to Asher. Him taking care of you doesn’t automatically make him a good guy. He can be good to you, and still have abused my brother.It. Happened.My brother has the emotional scars to prove it. He is not a liar, and neither am I.”

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